Christmas with the Potters
by SilverLightning26
Summary: After traveling back in time to the Marauders' sixth year at Hogwarts, Harry and Tonks spend Christmas with the Potters. A one-shot companion to "A Mishap and an Opportunity."


It was finally Christmas Eve. The excitement in the air was tangible. Harry, James, Tonks, and James's parents, Charlus and Dorea, had spent the day getting ready, and early in the afternoon they'd gone out to the woods behind Potter Manor to cut down a real tree to decorate that evening. According to James, that was the tradition. And, evidently, his favorite part of the holiday (besides opening presents, of course). So there was little else he talked about throughout the evening and during supper.

"You kids ready to put up the tree?" Charlus asked once the meal had been put away.

"You bet I am!" James exclaimed, leaping out of his seat. Harry and Tonks nodded enthusiastically.

"Then go and get the decorations from the attic while we get the tree ready," Charlus replied, grinning at the kids' enthusiasm.

"Come on," James beckoned, and the trio headed up the stairs.

The attic was the correct name for it. It was on the fourth floor. A panel descended from the ceiling, morphing smoothly into a simple wooden ladder from the floor up to the ceiling, obviously by magic. James led the way up the ladder, followed closely by Harry and then Tonks.

"Ever since first year, we've done the tree the muggle way, and I have to admit, it's a lot more fun than just conjuring ornaments and levitating them onto the tree with sticking charms," James explained as he started sorting through boxes and trunks full of stuff.

"Would that have anything to do with the fact that you met a certain redheaded muggleborn your first year and came home repeating all the stories she told about how _her_ family celebrated Christmas?" Tonks asked slyly, smirking when James's cheeks colored faintly.

"No," he denied unconvincingly. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Please. Everyone knows you've been infatuated with her since first year. And you _do_ talk about her a lot," he said with a grin. The color in James's cheeks darkened.

"Shut up, Russet," he muttered, shoving a box into Harry's arms as a distraction. Harry grunted a little under its weight, but dutifully carried it down the ladder before returning.

"You might as well quit denying it," Harry said mildly as he helped James move a particularly heavy trunk out of the way so they could get at the boxes behind it.

"She's never going to pay attention to me anyway, so why bother?" he mumbled. He grunted as he tried to shove aside one more box.

"You know," Harry said, taking pity on the other boy and casting a locomotor charm on the box to move it out of the way, "the only reason she hasn't said yes is because you're so big-headed about it."

"Harry's right," Tonks chimed in, reemerging from the ladder. "She thinks you could be a decent sort, but you're such a prat about asking her out that she has to say no on principle."

"What is that supposed to mean?" James asked indignantly, finally dislodging the box he was after and pushing it toward Tonks, who sighed.

"It means that there are very few girls who like to be made a spectacle of when a boy asks her out. Lily isn't one of those, so the fact that you always ask her out in the middle of a crowd makes her think that she's just a conquest, that the whole thing is a game and once she says yes, you'll lose interest."

James huffed. "This is the last one," he said idly, adding one more box to the small pile near the ladder. "Then what am I supposed to do?"

"Your first move would be to apologize," Harry said, "and then become her _friend_ , like you are with her roommates."

"Then, after she's realized that she's not just a game to you, you take her aside and ask her privately and politely if she'd like to accompany you to Hogsmeade or something. And if she declines, back off and keep being her friend. If she likes you—and I think she does," Tonks added with a faint smile, "though she denies it to herself—then eventually, when she's good and ready, she'll say yes."

At James's slightly lost expression, Harry and Tonks both smirked and Harry added his own commentary. "Basically, deflate your oversized ego and show her you're more than just the house Quidditch star and prankster extraordinaire. Show her the side of you that usually only the boys see."

James sighed. "Maybe you're right. And, yeah," he admitted with a faint smile but a slight blush, "she is the one who made me want to try a muggle Christmas."

Tonks grinned and slapped him on the shoulder. "That's a step in the right direction," she said. With a wink, she disappeared down the ladder with two boxes, both of them spelled to be feather-light. Harry grinned at James as well and carried down two more boxes similarly enchanted, and James came after with a large trunk. When they were all on the ground, he gestured with his wand and the ladder disappeared into the ceiling and once more became an innocuous ceiling panel.

"Let's get these downstairs. This is the fun part!" James exclaimed, then he set off down the hallway with his feather-light trunk at a pace just shy of a run. Tonks and Harry exchanged an amused look and followed with their boxes.

When they arrived in the sitting room, they found a twelve-foot, real fir tree—the one they had picked out together earlier in the day—set up in the corner. The scent of pine filled the room and Harry breathed in in deeply. The smell reminded him of Hogwarts in the winter time. Around the tree were various, small boxes and containers filled with string, ribbon, and tinsel, and two larger containers were full of popcorn and cranberries, ready to be strung. Dorea was just finishing the charms that would keep the tree from making a mess in the room, and she greeted them with a smile. The trio deposited the boxes of lights and other decorations on the floor and then waited to be told what to do.

"One or two of you can string the popcorn and cranberries and the other can do the lights. _Just this once_ , you have permission to fly in the house _only_ to reach the higher branches to place the decorations," Dorea said. "But if you fool around, the broomsticks _will_ be taken away until the end of break and the perpetrators grounded— _literally_ —for the same period of time. Clear?"

James gulped. "Crystal, Mum. Can Harry and I do the lights?" he asked, enthusiastic now.

"You just want to fly in the house," Charlus observed with a grin. James grinned back, unabashed.

"I can do the popcorn and cranberries," Tonks offered. "I'm not much good on a broomstick," she admitted.

"I can help you, dear," Dorea offered.

"I'll sort the ornaments, then," Charlus said with a smile.

"Yes!" James exclaimed. He raised his wand and summoned his broomstick and Harry, grinning and elated at the chance to fly again, even if it wasn't very high and he couldn't do any tricks, did the same. The two boys took several minutes to untangle the light strings, then, holding one between them, they mounted their brooms and rose up to be level with the top of the tree. Then they proceeded to play a rather complicated game of tossing the light string back and forth so it fell neatly across the branches.

They sent a shower of pine needles down over the trio on the ground, but they were both grinning.

After a few minutes, they started a contest. With one light string each, they competed to see who could get theirs completely wrapped around the tree first. It was the first time, perhaps, that Harry had really been able to let loose and act like a giddy teenager at Christmas, and he took full advantage of it. He even welcomed the scolding from Dorea for some of his more reckless stunts, because the sly but encouraging grins from Charlus and James's unabashed congratulations far outweighed it. And somehow, because it was Christmas and she simply enjoyed watching the boys have fun, Harry knew that Dorea wouldn't actually follow through on her threat unless someone got hurt or was nearly hurt.

When the cranberry and popcorn strings were finished, James and Harry repeated their game with the same level of enthusiasm as before. Tonks even got in on the fun and made it harder by tossing spare berries or popcorn kernels at the two airborne boys and making them dodge the tiny projectiles. Harry even spotted Charlus tossing a few at his son and started dictating the rules. If one of them get hit, they were "grounded" for five minutes, during which they had to help put the ornaments and other, non-strung decorations on the tree. James accused his father of cheating when a whole handful of popcorn hit him in the back of the head. Harry was laughing until a similar handful of cranberries hit the small of his back, thrown by Tonks.

Both grounded, James and Harry took great delight in finding the most creative ways (without using magic) to reach the higher branches to place the ornaments. Tonks joined in as well, and Harry grinned at the way she acted more like a sixteen-year-old than her real age, which was closer to twenty-two. Charlus and Dorea just laughed at the children's antics, sitting just out of the way. Occasionally a spell was needed to keep the glass balls from shattering on the floor or to keep one or more of the kids from falling into the Christmas tree as they jumped for the higher branches.

After a while the boys remembered their broomsticks. James immediately jumped back into the air, this time loaded with a bang of ornaments. Harry insisted Tonks take a turn, as it didn't require a lot of skill to fly straight up or in a gentle curve around the tree. She finally gave in, and on a borrowed broom that Charlus appeared to have conjured (but more likely simply summoned from storage), Harry joined the group. Within another thirty minutes or so, the entire tree was decorated. Then the three of them played rock, parchment, and wand to see who got to put the star on top.

Harry was surprised to win, and was assured it was a highly sought-after honor to place the star by all the Potters. Finally he took it with a sense of reverence from Charlus and carefully rose into the air on his Firebolt. At the top, Harry carefully placed the sixteen-point lighted star on the topmost branch and charmed it to stay upright. Then he tapped the star with his wand, uttering the spell to activate the lights in an undertone. An instant later, the star plus all the lights—which looked like tiny candles in the way they flickered and glowed a warm orangey-red—instantly lit up. At the same time, someone on the ground had turned out the light in the sitting room, and Harry descended by the light of the tree. He landed gently between James and Dorea and looked up in awe at the first Christmas tree he had ever decorated.

"I daresay it looks better than it did last year," Charlus observed.

Dorea smiled. "It was certainly more fun to decorate with a few extra hands," she said. Then she turned to James, Harry, and Tonks. "You kids did a wonderful job."

James shrugged and grinned, as did Tonks. Harry noted a faintly wistful look on her face. He also felt obligated to speak. "Thank you for letting us help," he said with an appreciative smile at the two older Potters.

"There's no need for thanks. It was a delight, watching you kids have fun," Dorea replied.

"Can't argue with that. And frankly, I approve of the mess," Charlus said with a wink, and all five of them looked at the base of the tree. The floor was littered with pine needles, scraps of tinsel and twine, and forgotten cranberries and popcorn pieces. Harry and James adopted a sheepish look while Tonks just grinned.

"It adds character. It's a testament to the effort we expended decorating the massive thing," she said, and they all laughed.

"I'm afraid I must agree. Though it _will_ be cleaned up after presents tomorrow morning," Dorea said sternly, fixing the three kids with a firm look. "But now, it's quite late. What do you say to a mug of hot cocoa before bed?"

Her query was answered with a chorus of enthusiastic agreement. Leaving the tree lit, the five of them headed to the kitchen. The three boys plus Tonks sat at the table while Dorea prepared the cocoa, and chatter was lively as they rehashed their exploits in tree-decorating. After a few minutes a mug of steaming cocoa was placed in front of each of them and Dorea took her seat at the table. The lights were turned low, the room lit by simple candlelight.

"Hey, it's snowing!" James exclaimed suddenly. Four other heads swiveled toward the window behind the sink, and sure enough, numerous fat white flakes were drifting down to land softly on the grass.

"Looks like it will be a white Christmas," Charlus commented. The others nodded in agreement.

As the cocoa was drunk, drowsiness settled in. Just as he was finishing his mug, Harry looked around at the four faces surrounding him, illuminated by simple candlelight. His surrogate sister, her hair tinting a soft blue of contentment. His young father who by now felt more like a brother, eyes riveted to the falling snow with a childlike enchantment on his face. Dorea, his grandmother yet more like a mother, watching her family with a soft smile, fondness painting her lightly lined face—a family, Harry realized with a start as she glanced his way, that included both he and Tonks. And Charlus, grandfather and father and favorite uncle all wrapped into one, his eyes bright with merriment and mirth as he observed with a smile the three teenagers currently in his care.

This _was_ his family, Harry realized. Perhaps he was only a visitor currently, and perhaps he hadn't been born yet in this timeline, but these people were his family. And it was fitting that he should discover it on Christmas Eve—the very first Christmas Eve he had ever celebrated, and certainly the first he'd been allowed to partake in the festivities, rather than watching from afar. Christmas Eve, the eve of new beginnings, of family, and Harry would forever savor this moment. Harry didn't recall making the trek back upstairs to his room when he finished his cocoa, or changing into his pajamas. He only recalled the soft kiss on his forehead, the whispered "Good night," and falling asleep with a contented smile on his face.

(Christmas morning with the Marauders, presents, perhaps a game of Quidditch?)


End file.
